“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

on weekend bookkeeping for a landscaping company, and accepted every hand me down, every gift card, every casserole from neighbors too polite to mention how close I looked to collapse. Somewhere in those years, I stopped thinking of myself as a woman who might still want romance. Love became a story told to other people. I was too busy stretching dollars,continue reading …